The Cartel (20 page)

"Oh, my, you're so beautiful," the androgynous voice said as the person stroked Lydia's hair. "You're in pain. Yes, I know. This will make you feel much better."

Before Lydia could protest, she smelled alcohol and felt a prick in one of the veins of her right arm. Whatever it was that was flowing through her body felt chilling at first, before a strangely warm sensation flooded her entire body, beginning with the back of her legs and quickly numbing her pain and senses as if neither had ever existed. Even the emotional trauma she’d endured subsided. The room’s atmosphere lightened and she was calm as if she floated in a warm pool, and her worries became distant. The strange presence left, shutting the door. The sound of echoing laughter resounded in Lydia’s ears, but the laughter didn’t matter. Emilio didn’t matter. Antonio didn’t matter. Nothing did.

*****

The letter came on a Saturday afternoon and Marta
tore it open. It was from Antonio. She hadn't been able to shake him from her thoughts since he’d come to see her. It wasn't as if she had ever gotten him out of her mind, but at least she had been able to distance herself from him for all those years.

However, ever since his visit a week ago, she had thought about him constantly. Seeing him had stirred up emotions long since repressed. When he’d asked her to go back to Colombia with him so that they could be together, the temptation was nearly irresistible, but she knew in her heart that it would destroy her self-respect if she were to take another woman's husband. She could never do anything so deceitful.

Marta read the letter. It was horrendous news. Antonio wrote of Lydia's death, and how her body hadn't been recovered. He described his confusion, pain, and guilt. She was devastated to learn that Antonio’s eldest daughter, Rosa, hadn't spoken since her mother's death, and that the little one wouldn't let her father out of her sight. It was clear that Antonio was suffering, and Marta wanted nothing more than to go to him. And he made it clear that he wanted her to come and be with him.

He’d enclosed a check for her airfare. Marta didn't know what to think. The one thing she knew was that Lydia's death changed the situation, even though what hadn’t changed was the pain Antonio had once caused her. And, even though she ached for him, Marta didn't know if she could bring herself to go to him, unsure that she could trust him.

*****

Javier didn’t receive word of Lydia’s death until he’d returned home from yet another dinner with Señora Diaz. Carlotta was quite a woman, a bit eccentric, but she made him laugh and she was so beautiful. She had a Sophia Loren look about her that Javier couldn’t help but be attracted to. Sophia Loren was Javier’s absolute favorite actress. He’d “fallen in love” with her when he and Cynthia had seen one of her movies on their honeymoon in Italy many years ago. They had seen her walking in a piazza in Venice where her movie
Black Orchid
was being hailed as wonderful and Javier insisted they go to her movie. He’d been enchanted by her and Cynthia had teased him about his crush on the movie star. And now, in Carlotta he saw so much of the Italian beauty that he found himself on occasions when they were out together, fantasizing that Carlotta was indeed the actress. He knew it was insane, but it did feel good to be out laughing with a woman again. He hoped Cynthia understood his need from her place in the Kingdom, but he had honored her memory through celibacy now for six years.

There was one who was not pleased at all about Javier courting Carlotta and that was Bella, but he really couldn't understand why. He thought she would be happy about it. It allowed her to spend more time with her best friend Miguel, who Javier found to be a charming little boy. Bella had expressed quite forcefully more than once that Señora Diaz was not fit to be seen with her father. This made him laugh, hearing his daughter’s opinion on who was fit, or not, to be seen with him.

However, at that moment, there was no time to think about Bella. Once Pedro informed him of Lydia's death, Javier immediately made plans to go to Antonio. The day of Cynthia’s death flashed before his eyes. He told Pedro to pack bags for the three of them. He was hopeful that Bella's presence might be a good distraction for Antonio's daughters. They always played well together.

It was late when the three of them reached Antonio's home. Emilio let them in. He seemed to be almost jovial, probably due to the booze he was drinking. He smiled at them, picking Bella up and swinging her around.

Pedro immediately lifted the sleepy child out of Emilio's arms and muttered, "She's very tired."

"I see. Who's the papa here?" Emilio joked, slapping Javier on the back.

Javier winced and squinted his eyes at him. "Where is Antonio?"

Emilio pointed toward the living room. "I can take her and put her in the girls' room, since she's so tired."

"No, thank you," Pedro answered. "You can tell me the way."

"Go down that hall and turn left. It's the second room on the right."

"Thank you," Pedro murmured, holding Bella protectively.

"Thank you, Pedro," Javier said.

"No problem."

As Pedro carried Bella to bed, Emilio walked into the bar to pour himself another drink. Javier went into the living room, where he found Antonio seated on the sofa, his head down.

Javier sat down quietly next to him, taking hold of his hand in silence. No words were going to ease Antonio’s pain.

After a few moments, Antonio said, "My baby won't speak. Rosa says nothing. She will speak to no one."

"In time, my friend. Give her time."

"I'm so worried about her. She loved her mother so much.”

"She's in a great deal of pain. She will speak once again, once the pain eases. How are
you
holding up?"

"I'm doing what I can. It’s my little girls I'm concerned about more than anyone. None of this seems real to me yet. It's like a bad dream. I can't believe she's actually gone."

"I understand."

"I know you do."

"I have come to be with you, Antonio, to help in any way that I can."

"Thank you."

"I brought Bella with me. Maybe she can get Rosa to talk."

"I hope so, Dear God, I hope so."

****

Rosa was awake when Pedro put Bella down next to
her. He smiled at Rosa, and she closed her eyes. Usually she would be happy to see Bella. They had played together so often. But she didn't feel like seeing, playing, or talking to anyone. She was angry at the world and at God. How could He take her beautiful mother away from her? She vowed never to speak again until God brought her mama back home. Rosa couldn't believe she was dead. She wished that she were dead, too.

Bella reached over and patted Rosa on the head. "Hi," she whispered.

Rosa looked at her.

"I'm sorry about your mama."

Tears welled up in Rosa's eyes.

"I'll tell you a secret about what happens to mommies when they go to Heaven. If you close your eyes for a long time and you think about her, she'll come and talk to you. She'll probably be dressed in white and look real pretty. At least, that's always what my mommy looks like." Bella smiled at Rosa. "Trust me. I promise that it's the truth."

For the first time since before her mother’s death a few days earlier, Rosa smiled and closed her eyes. She tried and tried to see her mother, but it would not happen. She didn't come to her as Bella said she would. Rosa could not understand why.

Lydia had finally figured out what was happening to her. She discovered that the obese creature who occasionally visited her was actually a transvestite who injected all sorts of drugs into Lydia’s bloodstream.

Far worse than the abuse her body felt from the effect of the drugs, was what happened as she lay on her back, stoned, semi-conscious, when the smelly, hideous man repeatedly plunged himself deep inside her numb body, until he finally ejaculated and climbed off. His repulsive breath stank of beer and cigarettes, and he laughed at her while he zipped up his trousers. Most monstrous of all was the awareness that she couldn't feel much of anything, nor did she care. The loss of her baby, combined with the continuous injections, left her lethargic, drifting, and oblivious to her surroundings.

She struggled to sit up, but collapsed back onto the creaking bed, her head whirling around. The stranger burst into more laughter at her intoxicated stupor. She couldn’t bring herself to care.

All Lydia wanted was more of that peace potion. The drug took her pain and fears away, replacing them with calm and a sense of ease. It was as if the drug knew exactly where the pain in her heart and mind were. It seemed to hit those spots first, and then her entire body fell into sync, like nothing she had ever experienced before.

Sometimes when she was administered a shot, Lydia would try to decipher whether or not she was in heaven or hell, but even this thought process drained her of too much energy. Instead, she would stare at a steel crucifix above the small cardboard dresser in the corner of the room. A red light from the bar across the street flashed against the cross every few seconds, keeping her both entranced and confused. She wanted to grab the symbol of saved souls and throw it across the room. The red light also irritated her, yet she couldn’t take her eyes off it.

*****

Marta left Alejandro in the care of Elisa and flew
down to Colombia. She was concerned about returning back home to Alejandro quickly. However, Antonio assured her on the telephone that this would not be a problem.

This would be Marta’s first visit to Antonio’s home. Their meetings had always taken place at Javier Rodriguez’s vacation estate in Costa Careyes when she was merely a girl. A certain amount of anxiety boiled in her stomach as the car pulled up to Antonio’s home. She hoped she hadn’t made a terrible mistake in accepting his invitation.

She knew that he was extremely wealthy, but when she saw how exquisite his home was, she was astounded. The lush gardens surrounding the massive home were like none she had ever seen. There were all types of beautiful, bright flowers, requiring the care of several gardeners.

A young woman who reminded Marta of herself only six years before led her around back, to the patio with a breathtaking view of the ocean far off in the distance. Although she had lived in Los Angeles, Marta’s trips to the ocean had been few and far between. Each time she saw it, the appeal was always overwhelming. When she had lived at Javier’s home, she was able to see it every single day, and now she realized again how fortunate she had been. The ocean off of Los Angeles was equally beautiful, but she seldom went near it, for the memories it evoked were too painful. The green mountains that were almost a teal blue stood to the east. Nothing about where she was at that moment seemed real, but as if a painter was at his canvas painting the scene before him. Marta brought her fingers to her lips, and then looked at her hands to make sure that she was real and not in the middle of some artist’s strange rendering of her life.

She found Antonio sitting in a lounge chair, his head raised towards the sun, and his eyes protected by sunglasses. She hadn’t noticed when he last visited, but with the reflection of the afternoon sun, she could see that he was beginning to lose some of his hair. She sat down in the chair across from him.

Antonio didn’t turn to look, but after a few seconds, he said, “Thank you for coming.”

“There was no other choice.”

Antonio nodded his head. “Javier is here. He and his little girl.”

“And Señora Rodriguez?”

“No,” he replied, taking off his glasses to look at her. “Oh, yes. You couldn’t have known.”

“Known what?”

“Cynthia died during childbirth with Isabella.”

“Oh, God,” Marta cried out, horrified by such unexpected, terrible news. Marta had always been very fond of Señora Rodriguez. She had taught Marta to read, and had always let her borrow records and illustrated books. She had even given Marta a few of her discarded dresses, which were the nicest clothes Marta had ever owned. The news that such a lovely woman had died, compounded with the death of Antonio’s wife, left her momentarily speechless.

As he turned to look at her, she placed a hand on Antonio’s face. He tried to smile. “I am so sorry for what you must be going through,” she told him.

He nodded. “It is an ending to a period in my life. Not the kind of ending I would’ve desired, but still, an ending. I have to move on. I have no other choice. This is part of the reason I’ve asked you here.” He sat up, taking both her hands in his.

“Antonio...” she began.

“Please don’t say anything until I’ve finished. This is fate, you realize. Granted, there is cruelty in it, but can’t you see that this is the way things are meant to be? God has brought us back together, Marta. There is no doubt about it. He knows of my love for you and how powerful it is. We are destined to be a family. I want you to bring Alejandro here to live, and as soon as it is appropriate, you and I will be married.”

Marta looked away, not knowing how to respond. Giving an answer would not be as simple as either one of them would’ve liked. “We have a home there,” Marta replied.